Page 54 of Under His Touch

I stare out the window and try to calm myself, a difficult task considering what I’m about to do. Will he be happy, mad? What about Sara? She’s looking forward to being on Alec’s arm. Can I do this to her? But Sara loves and cares about me. Surely if she knew how I felt, she’d want me to be with him. A short while later we pull up in front of his building, and I get out. My heart is in my throat as I walk up the stairs, forcing one foot in front of the other. Derek greets me at the door, but this time he doesn’t offer me a toothy grin. No, this time he looks a bit confused.

“Megan, I wasn’t expecting you tonight,” he says, as he opens the glass door for me.

“Some last-minute wedding things I need to discuss with the groom,” I say.

“Very well.” He walks me to the elevator, inserts his key and I force myself to make small talk on the way up. I stammer a bit, and trip over my words. Is it any wonder? My damn brain is racing a million miles an hour.

“Thanks,” I say when I step off. The elevator doors ping shut, and I stand in the hall and take a minute to pull myself together before I knock. I wait, but the door doesn’t open. Has the groom gone to bed already so he’ll be refreshed for the big day? I knock again, a bit louder this time, and slip my hand into my pocket to grab the key he gave me. Should I? I wait a few more minutes and when he doesn’t answer, I decide to let myself in.

I open the door, and peer into the dark. “Alec,” I call out quietly. If he’s asleep, should I wake him? I tiptoe down the hall, and when I hear noises coming from his bedroom, I hurry my steps, but when I peer through the crack in his door, and find Sara in his arms, my vision goes fuzzy around the edges and I falter backward.

I lean against the wall, brace my hands on my knees and mentally berate myself. Why, oh why did I come here? Alec isn’t in love with me. He currently has his arms wrapped around my cousin—his fiancée—like he’s anxious to get an early start on their honeymoon.

Tears fall, and I swipe at them, hate them. Hate myself for believing there could be more between us. Amanda was wrong. James was wrong. Everyone was wrong, including me, and I never should have spent one minute thinking Alec could want me. I struggle to pull myself together, and when I finally get my legs working again, I retrace my steps, go out into the hall and lock up behind myself. I press the button for the elevator and pull my hair forward, not wanting Derek to see my red eyes. Grabbing my phone, I shoot Amanda a text.

Megan: Still have that bottle of wine.

Amanda: Oh no. Are you okay?

Megan: Not even a little.

Amanda: I’m so sorry Megs. I thought...

Megan: Not your fault.

I shove my phone back into my pocket when the elevator arrives, and I force myself to smile when the doors slide open.

“That didn’t take too long,” Derek says.

I clear my throat and hope to pull off casual. “Nope, all is good.”

As if sensing my dark, shaky mood, Derek goes quiet and when we reach the lobby, I wave good-night and rush outside to draw a breath. I call for an Uber and by the time I reach my apartment, I’ve pretty much cried myself out. I slide from the vehicle and find Amanda waiting for me.

“Hey,” I say, and when she pulls me in for a hug, more tears fall.

“Come on. I have wine, and ice cream.”

I let her guide me to my apartment, where we—and when I say “we,” I mean me—finish the bottle of wine, and eat the ice cream. The next thing I know, I’m waking up with a killer headache, the sun shining in through my open curtains. Beside me, Amanda is asleep, and my heart misses a beat, thankful that she stayed to take care of me.

I glance at the clock and jolt upright. “Damn,” I say, and give my head a minute to settle. With so many last-minute things to pull together before the ceremony this afternoon, I shake Amanda.

She groans, and I say, “We need to get moving.”

Her lids flutter open. “Right,” she says. “I’m moving.”

“I need to shower,” I say.

?

?Me, too.” She sits up and rubs her eyes. “You okay?”

“Fine,” I lie, wanting to busy my mind with the ceremony.

“You want to ride to the country club in the van with me? I’ll make Jeremy sit in the back with the food and you can ride up front with me.”

“No, I need to go earlier. I’ll Uber and meet you there.” I turn from her, unable to face the worry in her eyes as she looks at me.

I make my way to the shower to clean myself up, and once I’m washed and dried, I slide into a dress—presenting professional event planner—and glance at myself in the mirror. Ugh. With dark circles under my eyes, I look like a raccoon with a bad case of food poisoning. I stick my tongue out, groan some more and reach for my toothbrush. Feeling a little more human, I grab my purse, and make my way to the country club to ensure all the details are perfect for the wedding of the century.

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